


The ways of Men

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Sexual Content, Fetish, Kinks, M/M, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by EnideThe contest over a lover turns into a tria for the throne of Gondor
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Boromir (Son of Denethor II)
Kudos: 5
Collections: Least Expected





	The ways of Men

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: We all know none of us own them.  
> Feedback: Yes, please

It had gone beyond lust or even need now. It had become a challenge, and more than that; now it was a thing of pride, of leadership, of the future of them both. *It is a strange thing,* Aragorn thought, _that the future of humans might be in the hands of an elf._ And an elf who seemed not even to notice the battle that was fought.

Not to feel lust for him would have been inhuman; grace and intensity, strength and that luring smile, it was enough to make any human half mad with wanting. The roads they travelled, closing the distance to Carardras, were cold and empty, and be as it might for halfling and dwarf, wizard and elf, but for a human, need and lust rose with every lonely night. Aragorn felt it, and his body ached for relief. His eyes searched, despite his efforts to control the feelings, and they had found their target, and would not leave. Legolas, daggerwielder, bowbearer, how could a human resist?

But he had forgotten one thing; he was not the only the only human on this journey.

He had been laying awake one night of many, the sleeping fellowship around him, despite himself with the hunger that tore his body, making sleep a dream beyond reach. The campfire had burned low, only embers left, but it was still not hard to make out the silhouette of the elf, standing straight and still under the stars. Fragments of elvish songs came drifting with the wind, the voice surprisingly dark for one so fair. His own human body, which he had so little control over, started to shake with need and lust, his hands started moving by themselves. And then he heard the strange noise, half choked, but thick and blurred as had its maker tried to hinder it, on the other side of the campfire. Terrified that he had been discovered, Aragorn jerked up, halfsitting, staring into the shadows on the other side. Boromir was laying there, his body twitching, his face covered with sweat, his hands, under the blanket, moving fast. He was silent again, but the tension around the jaws showed what a trial that was. And his dark eyes were fixed on the slim, muscular figure standing guard. Frozen with shock, Aragorn did not move, but when Boromir sank back, panting between gritted teeth, he caught his eyes. Both the men tensed up, ready for a challenge. There was no way of hiding; they both knew. The challenge was stated wordlessly, but as unyielding as had it been carved in stone. And still the price of their contest had not even turned around, his eyes on the stars, and his mind wandering.

The tension between the two Men grew for every day. Silently their contest went on, and the rest of the fellowship, with their minds bent on the task before them, did not notice. At first, it was simple things; making the elf smile by being friendly to the halflings; making him laugh, and taking to him, being close, and having his attention. Boromir won a great prize, unnoticed by others than Aragorn, by training the halfling in combat to their great need and the merriment of the rest of the fellowship. Half naked, shirt and jacket laying beside him, the Man showed of his strong body, his broad torso and shoulders, his swiftness and resilience. Of course, it way the high, free laughter of the elf that mattered. Aragorn kept his distance, taking to the elf in the tongue of his kind, sharing thoughts and doubts, making Legolas sing together with him in the ancient songs of elves. But he showed none of them anything but friendship. And soon enough, their contest grew in strength.

Caradras was a hell of snow and cold, but the looks between the Men could have turned the frost into steam. Both forced their way ahead, showing of strength and determination, taking out their brutal feelings for each other on the walls of snow. And Legolas just walked by, unconcerned by cold or snow, with the strength and steps of a hunting cat; unreachable on his walk on top of the snow. Frustration and perhaps a touch of resignation filled the Men as they saw him walk by, but it only proved to strengthen the hate between them. This was not a price for mere mortals; he could only be the price of one worthy. A King. Or a Steward.

When they finally reached the grassy hills, most of the fellowship sank into the grass, to exhausted to do anything but sleep. But the lust and rage of the Men would not let them rest so easily. For camp, Gandalf chose the edge of a great pinewood, stretching out on the lap of Caradras. After the camp was set, Legolas offered to search up water to fill their supply. He went into the woods, singing. The Men exchanged a look, and left the dozing fellowship, following the elf. Had it not been for the song, they would not have found him, but now they made their way down to the water. Their shoulders kept bouncing into one another, trying to push the other away, fury almost taking over their lust, the challenge driven to its point. The waters were white of foam, a hard and strong current, cold as ice it must be, coming from the slopes of the mountain. The elf had taken of his shirt, and was removing his footwear, getting ready to dive in. Both humans stopped, barely hidden behind the sparse vegetation. The elf's back was lean and muscular, his hair a mist, spiderweb - fine. Without hesitation, he took of the rest of his clothes and dove in. Both men grasp for breath of the sight, and even more so when the elf rose from the foaming water, like a creature of myth. He had found a rock of sorts, reaching out of the waters, and standing on it, surrounded by the mist of water dropplets, hair flying around him, every muscle of his body smooth as silk and yet as hard as steel, he sang again, but a song of sorts not even Aragorn had heard, a song raging with the waters, wild and deep and ancient. It griped both Men's souls, awaking the lust and fury they felt. Both drew their swords at the same time. Aragorn jumped aside, avoiding Boromirs stroke, drawing blood as the edge of his own sword lashed out over Boromirs chest. The jacket and shirt were torn, showing skin and chest hair, and a trail of red blood. Boromir roared, and his next stroke could have felled a boar, but even as Aragorn drove it away, he felt Boromirs body press up against his, tripping him over, making them both fall. They must have lost their swords, tumbling on the ground, trying to get a grip on the other, muscles working furiously, bodies hard against each other, faces so close, lust and fury, and the sight of naked flesh. The first kiss was a challenge, the tearing of clothes of one another an expression of primitive competition, but when naked skin touched, there was something else. The challenge had been taken, and this was the way of testing. Boromirs hands were caressing Aragorns chest; hard and demanding, nipples stiffening, body reacting. Aragorns teeth sank deep into the other Mans lip, and then his neck, his chest, the salt human blood filling his mouth, tongue wrapping itself around the nipples, making him moan, and then biting it so hard he screamed. They were still tumbling around, no one getting the upper hand, but now there were not much left of their clothes and there bodies were stiff of hunger and hard with rage and challenge. Mouths searches for point of pleasure that would distract the other, or places of pain, caressing, gripping, biting, licking until both of their bodies was aching of mixed emotions. Boromirs hands in his hair forced Aragorns head back with a groan of frustration, pain and lust, tongue licking his neck, his chest, moving down, without hesitation. He almost lost the last remnants of control and pride - and the challenge - when the other Mans mouth enclose him, but although his entire body screamed of pleasure, the rage was still there and he heaved the heavier man aside. Boromir landed hard on his stomach, and the air was pushed out of his lounges. Before he had time to get up, Aragorn was on top of him, thrusting, pressing to get inside. And Boromirs head sank as he could no longer resist the dark demands of his own body, and did no longer fight it. The triumph of the King almost outcompeted the sensation of satisfied lust, but then that to sank away for the forces of lust.

-The ways of Men are strange, Legolas said to his friend. They were watching the scene from a distance, the elf now clad again. It took a hind of elven magic to make them open their eyes for one another. -You really think they are going to leave you alone after this? his friend answered, doubtfully stroking his beard. -Why should they not? Now their need is filled, by another with the same need. Is that not enough? Was that not what they both wanted? -I would not put to much fait in that. The ways of men are strange, indeed. -Their ways, perhaps, but not their needs. Men want many things and they pursue their goal with a fire I might never understand, but yet it is ultimately the same goals and needs that fill our blood, is it not? If they only were not so blind, they would not stumble so many times on their road. He leaned forward, watching the scene with interest. And smiled when a coarse hand started moving down his back.


End file.
